


Comfort (A Not Love Story)

by ElliePollie



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Comfort, F/M, Not a Love Story, Post-Canon, Sole survivors Chris Hartley and Sam Giddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 20:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElliePollie/pseuds/ElliePollie
Summary: This was supposed to be their attempt at being normal. It tended to happen every once in a while. One of them would get it into their heads to try to merge back into the normal world. It never worked but they always gave it a go anyway. Sam didn't know why they kept trying.This office party had been her idea. It was for her campaign, the first campaign that she was in charge of. She had to go really. He didn't though. He hadn't wanted to. But she'd begged. She needed him there. She always needed him to survive nights like this, ever since… And they liked to try to be normal every once in a while. It never lasted long though.Sam and Chris are the sole survivors, only they managed to stay alive until dawn and they've found that the best way to survive the rest of their lives is to stick together. This is not a love story, it's a story of grief, trauma and most importantly, of comfort.





	Comfort (A Not Love Story)

This was supposed to be their attempt at being normal. It tended to happen every once in a while. One of them would get it into their heads to try to merge back into the normal world. It never worked but they always gave it a go anyway. Sam didn't know why they kept trying.

This office party had been her idea. It was for her campaign, the first campaign that she was in charge of. She had to go really. He didn't though. He hadn't wanted to. But she'd begged. She needed him there. She always needed him to survive nights like this, ever since… And they liked to try to be normal every once in a while. It never lasted long though.

“So how did you two meet?” Her boss asked politely, once they'd gone through the obligatory congratulations and ‘how are you’s.  
Chris had been standing there quietly as she chatted. The silent support she needed at an event like this. But when this question came up she felt him shift nervously because they both knew where this question lead.  
Sam gulped and forced a smile. “School.”  
“High school lovers?” Her boss grinned, raising his eyebrows.  
“Umm, no actually…” as soon as the words were out of her mouth Sam regretted it, she should have just lied, should have said yes, it would have prevented what came next.  
“Well, how'd you get together then? How'd you sweep this one off her feet.” Her boss winked at Chris, giving his shoulder a friendly thump.  
“Trust me, sir, there was no sweeping, she'd probably have killed me if I tried.” Chris forced a joke, obviously hoping to change the topic of conversation.  
“What's the story then?” Her boss insisted.  
“Trust me, it's really not very interesting.” Sam tried to shrug the question away, hoping like Chris, that he'd drop it.  
“You are really intriguing me here, come on, out with it.”

Luckily it was at that moment that Sam's partner on the project, Gareth, interrupted.  
“Samantha, time to shine.” He grinned, gesturing to the stage.  
Was it that time already? Sam looked at her wrist to check the time and realised that she wasn't wearing her watch because it would have looked strange paired with her dress and although she wouldn't have minded that, there were other people that would have. She craned her head around, looking for a clock and found Chris already holding his wrist up for her. He was always looking out for her. She smiled.

She looked at the time on Chris’ watch. Gareth was right. It was indeed time.  
“Okay, let's do this.” Sam took a deep breath.  
He nodded and started heading toward the stage.  
“Hey.” Chris caught her by the arm before she could follow him. “You got this.” He gave her an encouraging smile.  
“Well, you've always got my back right?” She smiled at him warmly, grateful for how supportive he always was.  
A look of horror crossed over his face for a second and then quickly disappeared. Sam wondered whether she had imagined it. It was a look she hadn't seen on him in a while but a look that she knew all too well.  
“Yeah, I do.” He nodded, voice slightly hoarse.  
“Samantha!” Gareth called.  
“The spotlight awaits.” Chris gestured for her to go.

Sam noticed that his hands shook slightly as they pointed toward the stage. She gave him a concerned look but before she knew it, Gareth had grabbed her wrist and was dragging her toward the stage. She looked back at Chris. His face was tense, his hands still shaking. Something was definitely wrong.

PTSD had been Chris's recompense from the night on the mountain. He shook, violently, sometimes. He had flashbacks that would leave him in a blind panic. He got migraines, stomach aches, chest pains, and found it hard to concentrate, the whole shebang. That and insomnia were his punishments.

Sam's were more specific and more vague at the same time. She couldn't take baths anymore. She just couldn't. It just made her think of… When they'd moved into their apartment together they'd made sure it was one without a bath. Sam had felt bad about having that stipulation but Chris had shrugged and said he didn't fit in most baths anyway because of his height.

She had got obsessively into exercising and healthy eating, even more so than before. She got antsy and irritable if she hadn't exercised enough and the idea of eating junk food made her feel sick. If she hated meat before, she despised it now, couldn’t go near it, especially anything raw, it was what had turned… God, what a horrible fate.

Although she exercised religiously, she, under no circumstances, did anymore climbing, heights were now an enemy. They had been a welcome challenge at one point, she enjoyed pushing herself to climb higher and higher. Then she’d learnt the truth. Running through the snow, falling off a cliff, hitting the rocks beneath, back-breaking, dead, a life cut short. Now when presented with a height or a wall to climb that was all Sam could think of, all she could think of was…

Sam also went crazy if she was cooped up for too long. She felt selfish, wasting her life inside their small apartment when others lives had been cut short in the dark, dank, claustrophobic mines. So she was often jetting off to various places for work, to escape, to try to live for all of them. Chris didn't mind too much, he seemed to like the solitude sometimes.

And throughout almost every second since that night, Sam had this dull sense of dread in the back of her mind. She always felt like something awful was about to happen. Always worried that the people she knew would turn on her. Worried that around every corner was a horrific prank. Or that down every dark alleyway there was a monster lurking, waiting for her to move.

As she walked up on to the stage behind Gareth, an image of her standing there, addressing everyone, smiling, before pig's blood poured down on top of her, entered her mind. She froze on the steps, blood roaring in her ears, everything in her body telling her to run. But she couldn’t run, she had to stay still. She had to gulp back the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. It would be just like… someone from her past to pull a Carrie-esque prank on her at this moment.

Paranoia was what the doctors labelled it. Paranoia was Sam's recompense.

As she stood frozen on the steps her eyes searched the crowds for two striking blue ones, hidden behind a pair of glasses. Gareth was beckoning her up but she couldn't move. Her brain warned her that if she moved she’d die. She found the eyes she was looking for. He gave her a small nod and an encouraging smile.

There was no prank waiting up on the stage for her, no monsters watching her from the wings, this was what she had to tell herself as she took each step. She reminded herself that as soon as this was over, he would be there, he would understand and she could collapse into the arms of the only person she trusted.

Gareth carried them gracefully through the thank you speeches. Sam fumbled her way through, eyes constantly flicking to Chris, worried about the look she'd seen on his face, and to the ceiling, unable to shake the picture of pig’s blood coming down on her head or the worry that two milky white eyes were searching for her nervous movements. She knew she must look a right freak show, fidgeting, eyes looking this way and that in front of all these people.

Luckily Gareth was a very charismatic guy, he always knew what to say to people. In another life, Sam could have seen herself being with a man like that. He was smart, handsome, compassionate, smooth. Sam had been like that once, a people person. She had thought that she connected well with people, that she could read them well and say the right things, let’s just say, she hadn’t felt that way for a very long time. That Sam, the people person Sam, would have fit very well with Gareth. He'd been single when she first joined the charity, even asked her out for drinks once. But in this life, no. This Sam needed Chris too much.

They'd both tried dating other people after… It hadn't worked out. No one else understood the flashbacks or the nightmares or the anxiety. So one day when they were both single and lonely Sam had kissed him. He'd freaked out, the awkward idiot that he was. But eventually, he’d come around to the idea. And God it was good to be held by someone again, someone who understood. So they kind of just fell into it. Accepted that this was really their only option. Their only chance at some sort of deranged happiness. Or at least, even if they weren't happy, they weren't alone.

After the speeches were over, Sam slumped into her chair next to Chris at the dinner table. Normally he would have turned to her and reassured her about her speech but when she looked at him, she found that he was somewhere far away. His jaw was tight, fists clenched, shoulders tense. His eyes staring straight forward, unfocused.

“Chris?” She tentatively put a hand out and placed it over one of his.  
He jolted, shocked back to reality by her touch. He shook his head violently and then turned to look at her.  
“Are you-” she started.  
“Well done up there.” He forced on a smile, nodding toward the stage.

Her face fell. Was he really doing this again? Chris liked to pretend he was fine, to try to protect her. It always hurt her when he did that. It was the same thing that… another funny, slightly nerdy guy had done once, pretending he was fine when he wasn't. Sam would never let Chris go down that road.

She was about to say something, some words of comfort or perhaps a demand to know what was wrong but her boss's voice interrupted her as he sat down opposite them.

“Don't you two think you're getting away from me that easily.” He shook a finger at them. “I still want to hear the story of how you got together.” He clapped once loudly.

Sam didn't know what it was, something her boss had said, the loud clap, or something else altogether but something sent Chris over the edge.

He stood up suddenly. His breathing laboured, eyes panicked. Her boss looked quite taken aback.  
“I'm sorry, is something…” Her boss began.  
Chris sprinted out of the room before he could finish.  
“wrong..?”  
“I'm sorry… it's been a long week.” Sam smiled at her boss apologetically and then chased after Chris as fast as she could in her silly dress.

She’d never let someone she loved run off ever again without chasing after them, she’d learnt that lesson the hard way. Sam hurried into the hallway that lead toward the toilets. She found Chris leaning against a wall. Broad chest and shoulders heaving underneath the suit he'd borrowed from his dad that was slightly too small for him. They never tended to go out anywhere so the only suit Chris actually owned was a funeral suit.

“Chris?” She gently placed a hand on his back.  
“Fuck! Sam! Fuck!” He choked. “I-I-I told her, I told her that I had her back b-but I left her in those t-t-tunnels. And he- Jesus- he was so messed up and I left him outside. Then you were in the lodge and the… and I just left you, ran out as soon as I could. And I was passed out drunk that fucking night, leaving drunk school kids to look after themselves. I left them all Sam! I left them all!”  
“Shhhh.” She began to rub calming circles over his back. “Shhhh, it's not your fault Chris.”

It was something neither of them had ever managed to escape. The blame. The survivor's guilt, as the doctors called it. They both always blamed themselves and, at points, when they were angry and hurting, they had even blamed each other. They didn't blame each other anymore though and they tried not to blame themselves, but that was easier said than done.

“Fuck!” Chris flinched and brought his shaking hands up to his eyes, pushing his glasses back, to try to rub whatever flashback he was having out of his mind.  
“Hey, I've done my speech, what do you say we get out of here and go home?”  
“Don't you need to schmooze the donors?”  
“Gareth's the real schmoozer, I'm sure he'll do fine without me.” Sam shrugged. “Come on, let's get you home.”  
“God, I'm sorry Sam. I always mess these nights up.”  
“It's okay, let's go get a cab.” She took his shaking hand and, holding it tightly, began to lead him toward the cloakroom so that they could grab their coats.

***

When they got home to their small apartment Chris tugged off his tie and jacket discarding them on the floor and flopped onto the couch. His breathing erratic. He'd been visibly shaking the whole way home.

Sam quietly picked up the discarded clothing and went and hung it up in their bedroom. She then went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. She walked up to him and held out the glass.  
“Here, have a drink.”  
He looked up from where he'd buried his face in his hands.  
“Thanks.” He croaked, taking the glass.

Sam collapsed onto the couch next to him and stared at the ceiling.

“I'm sorry Sam,” Chris muttered quietly after a while.  
“S'okay.” She shrugged.  
“No! It's really not! Tonight was supposed to be your big night and I ruined it. I always ruin it.” He sighed.  
“Not really my scene anyway.” She picked at her dress. “I prefer places with a ‘yoga pants and hiking boots’ dress code.”  
Chris laughed half-heartedly. “I'd noticed. You do look lovely in that dress though.” He mumbled.

Sam smiled at that. Chris was definitely not the most romantic guy in the world. And mostly, she liked it that way, because he was Chris. Chris, who had gone through the same shit she had and knew what to say or do when she was completely falling apart. She didn't really want romance, she wanted company and comfort. But the moments where he tried were always nice, if a little awkward.

“Thanks.”

She looked at him as he sat next to her on the couch. Elbows resting on his knees, chin in his hands, eyes looking up at her admiringly. It was funny. Chris was the complete opposite of her type. She wasn't really his type either, far too athletic and outdoorsy. But because he was the only one who knew, she’d found herself attracted to his tall frame that could easily wrap her up in a much-needed hug. She was drawn in by his open, honest bright blue eyes that could make her feel safe amongst the chaos. He wasn't dark, tanned and beautiful like… But he was safe and most importantly, he was alive.

She leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips. He kissed her back, sitting up and cupping her face with one of his shaking hands.

She thought back to his words earlier, ‘ _I told her I had her back but I left her in those tunnels_ ’. About how his thoughts were all too often of a green-eyed, red-headed girl that he'd gotten to love for so little time. The day they'd retrieved her body from the tunnels had been one of the worst. Chris still had her beanie, she'd found him sitting with it in his hands just staring at it once or twice. She always took it from him gently and put it away. It wasn't good to let him dwell on it all for too long.

Sam knew he loved her but not in the way he had loved… that he had loved…

“I'm sorry I'm not Ashley.” She whispered quietly, breaking the kiss.

“I'm sorry I'm not a Washington.” Chris smiled sadly.

Sam had loved the Washington's all in various ways and at various times and she could never love Chris the way she'd loved them. In fact, she wasn't sure either of them was cable of loving that strongly ever again. But that was okay. They didn't need whirlwind romances and eternal love, all they needed was comfort.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I know Sam and Chris are not a popular combination and I think in any other circumstance they wouldn't work but I thought it would be interesting to explore how they'd be forced to cling to each other if they were the only two survivors. I would say I hope you enjoyed this fic but I'm not sure its the type of thing that you're meant to enjoy, so I guess, I hope this fic made you feel something.


End file.
